Avery felt her anger dissipate. “It just sucks,” she said miserably. She hadn’t realized how much it would hurt, seeing Atlas with other girls. She didn’t want it to be like this. Except this was the only way it could be.
Atlas leaned against the sturdy prefab wall and looked at her, his brown eyes steady. “It absolutely sucks,” he agreed. “But what else do you want me to do? If we’re going to keep sneaking around like this without Mom and Dad suspecting something—which they might already—then occasionally we’ll have to talk to other people. Maybe flirt with them.”
Avery didn’t answer right away. She stared around the tiny space filled with half-eaten appetizer platters and a small bot that kept UV-sanitizing silverware before depositing it in a neat stack.
“You don’t know how difficult it is for me, seeing you with her,” Avery said at last.
“Trust me, I do.”
She resented that. Atlas had done far worse to her than she had done to him, and they both knew it. “No, I don’t think you do,” Avery replied tersely. “Just because you saw me at a party with Watt, once? That hardly counts. Look at our track record, Atlas—which of us slept with someone else?”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again. “I’m sorry, Aves, but I can’t help what I did before you.”
“Yes, you could have helped it! You could have decided not to hook up with my best friend—you could have waited for me, like I did for you!”
Avery’s vision was getting blurry. She was a little surprised with herself for bringing that up, but maybe she shouldn’t have been. It was always there, a small hurt that she stubbornly kept nursing deep inside her: the knowledge that Atlas had been with Leda, probably even with other girls, while she’d only ever been with him. It made Avery feel wounded, and inadequate.
“It’s just hard, seeing you with other girls after that,” she finished, her voice small.
“That’s not fair. I can’t change the past.” Atlas started to reach for Avery, only to think better of it, and let his hands fall helplessly to his side. “There’s one easy way to fix everything, Aves, and it’s to leave. But you’re the one who won’t run away, and won’t tell me why.”
Avery shook her head. “I want to, I just need—”
“Time, yeah, I get it,” Atlas snapped, interrupting her. “I’ve tried to be understanding about it all. But how much longer am I supposed to wait?”
“I’m sorry,” she started to say, but she didn’t have an answer, and he knew it.
“Are we ever going to run away together? Aves”—Atlas seemed to falter a little—“do you even want to run away with me anymore?”
She blinked in shock. “Of course I do,” she insisted. “It’s just complicated. I can’t explain.”
“What can’t you explain? What aren’t you telling me?”
Avery shook her head, hating herself for keeping secrets. She swallowed against the hard, vicious sobs that rose up in her throat.
“I’m going to leave now. You should probably wait, so that we aren’t seen walking out together. You know, for appearances’ sake,” Atlas added, with just a touch of acid, and then he was gone.
Avery wrapped her arms around herself. She realized that a few tears had escaped, probably running in dark rivulets over her makeup. She reached up brusquely to wipe at her face. The part of her that was seventeen and in love felt utterly snubbed, and bruised, and a little bit eager to lash out.
Atlas didn’t get it. He couldn’t understand all the pressure she was under. And aside from that one date with Watt, which anyway had ended with Avery confessing her love for Atlas, Atlas had never really seen her with another boy. He didn’t understand how it was, knowing he’d been with other people, torturing herself with mental images of them together—
Maybe Atlas should find out what it was like, she thought spitefully, storming back into the party with new purpose. He deserved to see how it felt, watching Avery laugh and flirt and drink and dance with someone else.
Her eyes lit on Cord, standing alone near the bar, looking as aloof and handsome as ever. He was her date, after all. And he was always game for a little fun.
“I want a drink,” she announced, leaning her elbows forward on the bar in a way that her mother would have scolded her for. But she couldn’t find it in her to care about much of anything right now, except her new determination to let Atlas see how it felt, just a little.
Cord smiled at her abrupt greeting. “Champagne, please,” he told the bartender, but Avery shook her head.
“No, I want a drink drink.”
“Okay,” Cord said slowly, studying her a little to gauge her mood. “Vodka? Atomic? Whiskey?” he guessed, but Avery didn’t care what she drank as long as it was something strong.
“Whatever you’re having. But make it a double.”
Cord raised an eyebrow. “Two scotches on the rocks, double,” he told the bartender, then glanced at Avery. “Not that I don’t love when you get all reckless, but can I ask what happened to prompt this?”
“You can ask, but I won’t tell you.” Avery felt a few curious sets of eyes on them, but for once she didn’t care who saw, didn’t care whether they all posted snaps of her directly to the feeds. Let them.
“Well, then,” Cord said equitably, as if this was exactly what he’d expected her to say. “How can I help?”
“Easy. You can help me get as stupidly drunk as possible.”
“My pleasure.” Cord’s ice-blue eyes danced with mischief, and Avery felt a slight uptick in her angry mood. If nothing else, she reflected, Cord was a good partner in crime.
She clinked her glass to Cord’s and tossed back the drink, draining it in a single gulp. It was bitter on her throat, but she didn’t care. For the rest of tonight she would be the most sparkling, unattainably gorgeous version of herself, nothing but smiles and flashing eyes—and no one would ever see how hurt she was, beneath it all.
CALLIOPE
CALLIOPE WAS QUITE pleased with her decision to come to the Hudson Conservancy Ball with Brice Anderton.
She and her mom had always loved making an entrance: the way all eyes in a room inevitably circled toward them when they arrived at a party; especially in new cities, where people wondered in hushed whispers who they were and where they’d come from. Every now and then Elise made a halfhearted attempt at keeping a lower profile—“We don’t want to be too notorious, it isn’t safe,” she would remind Calliope. As if she didn’t love the attention even more than her daughter did.
By now, Calliope thought she was used to attracting that sort of attention. But she hadn’t been prepared for the reaction to her and Brice walking into the underwater ballroom together.